Grains of Dust
by Eledhwen
Summary: AU. Some xover with AtS. It's the year 2020, and in Sunnydale Elizabeth Rosenberg runs into an old friend of her mother's - or is he?
1. Chapter 1

Title: Grains of Dust

Rating: PG

Spoilers: no major ones.

Disclaimer: Not mine, Joss Whedon's. Except for Lizzy, who is mine. 

Author's notes: Canon up to the end of BtVS season 4, AtS season 1. Thereafter, not. I wrote this a while ago.

GRAINS OF DUST

My mum is a witch. I mean that literally, of course. She's a good witch, in both senses of the word 'good'. My dad is nobody. I don't mean that literally; what I mean is that Mum had a mistaken, drunken one-night stand one day and ended up pregnant. But I don't mind Dad, whoever he is, not being around, because I have two parents. There's Tara too. Mum and Tara have been together since college. My friends think it's kind of weird, your mum living with another woman, but I'm used to it. I like it. I like Tara. There's never any shouting in our house, everything's usually calm and peaceful and happy, and things get done quickly. 

Tara's a witch too. That's how they met, her and Mum, at a Wicca group where they were the only ones who could do anything serious. Tara always says Mum's got more power, but Mum always says it's Tara. I guess they're equally powerful in different ways. Mum can lift things just by looking at them – useful at dinnertime, that is, or when a heavy object needs moving. Tara can see into people's minds, she knows if you're lying, if you're not who you say you are, that kind of thing. Together they're incredible. I can't do much, though I've tried. Mum says it's Dad's fault, whoever Dad is.

Luckily I inherited Mum's other talents. I'm good at schoolwork. I like maths, computers are a second home. I inherited her looks too, red hair and green eyes and skin that burns in the sun. And I inherited her friends as honorary aunts and uncles. There's Xander and Anya, who are married. Xander writes comedy shows for television. He's got quite rich and he and Anya live in a big house a few miles away from us. They visit pretty often, and we always laugh a lot when they do. Anya comes out with the oddest comments quite seriously, but that's because she's not quite normal. Once she was a witch too, and then she got turned into a demon goddess and lived for a thousand years, before she got turned back into a girl and fell in love with Xander. You get the impression that she's not got used to the modern world, and its little traditions and things, but it's fun when she's around and despite her and Xander arguing constantly they love each other. The other friends who visit are Cordelia and Wesley. Wesley's English and has the cutest accent and habits. Cordelia is possibly the most beautiful woman I know, and the most stylish, and her quirky habit is saying exactly what she thinks when she thinks it. Mum says she was the same at school. 

They all had another friend once, a girl whose picture (taken with a much younger Mum and Xander) is on the wall in the living room. She was blonde and pretty and from the way they talk about her I always got the impression she was special to them, and extraordinary. They went through a lot together, I think, but even now it hurts Mum too much to talk about her. So we don't. 

That's our little family, and we're happy together. We're not normal, but we don't care what other people think.

And the not normal extends further, linking back to the blonde girl, and what happened to her, and what happened to the missing people. The ones Mum never talks about. Because I met one of them last week, quite suddenly and out of the blue and without expecting it. 

It happened in the evening, when I was out with friends in the local diner having hamburgers. Mum and Tara are great cooks but they tend to rely on vegetables and things and occasionally you get the need for a big fattening meal, with extra Coke and fries, and my friends are of a like mind. They're good friends, we're not alike but we have a laugh and we get on, and they stand by in a crisis, and that's what matters. 

Anyway, we'd finished our meal and were leaving the diner to pile into the four-wheel drive we go around in, and out of the darkness I heard a voice.

"Willow?" said the voice, and I turned around. Mum's name's as unusual as she is, and I wondered if the voice knew her. "Oh," the voice said, with a note of disappointment, but also a note of 'how silly I am, it couldn't possibly be'. I saw a tall dark back turn and start to walk away.

"Wait!" I called, and the back turned back to me and looked up. I almost caught my breath – my luck was surely in. A simply gorgeous man stood looking back at me. 

"I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else."

"You said 'Willow'," I said. "My mum's called Willow."

There was a silence. My friends shouted at me that they were going, and I let them.

"Willow Rosenberg?" he asked, as the four-wheel disappeared with a screeching of tyres. 

"Yeah, that's right."

"You're her daughter?"

"Check," I said. "Elizabeth. Or Liz for short."

"You look like her," he told me.

I ran my hand through my hair.

"Tell me about it. Right down to the freckles. You know my mum?"

He smiled, slightly, a sort of lopsided smile that made him look even more gorgeous. I had to think about not fainting on the spot.

"I used to."

I snorted in a very unladylike manner which I regretted instantly.

"Used to? You either know someone or you don't."

"Depends on the person," he said, smiling again. "Do you live nearby?"

I opened my mouth, but then reflected. Hang on a sec, I thought to myself, why am I considering giving my address to a random – if gorgeous – stranger who happens to know (in a 'used to' way) my mum? I looked at him with narrow eyes.

"Perhaps. Do you?"

"No." He met my suspicious gaze right back. "You're wondering why you should tell me where you live. Sensible. Willow's brought you up right."

I found myself smiling now.

"Yes, she has." A development of my earlier thought struck me. "Well enough for me to wonder why I'm standing in a Sunnydale car park at night talking to a stranger. Goodnight. Nice meeting you." I nodded at him and turned to go home, feeling with one hand for reassurance the protective talisman around my neck. On the way back I thought once or twice someone was following me, but when I turned there was nobody. And anyway I often get that feeling at night. Still, I was happy to shut the door on the darkness and go up to my room for some quiet surfing.

I didn't see Mum and Tara till the next morning. When I got down they were busy flipping pancakes whilst reading the paper (difficult apparently: you have to know just when to glance up from the paper to turn the cake in the pan. The first time Mum tried it we were scraping pancake batter off the ceiling all morning.) I settled down at the table and grabbed some juice.

"Morning, Lizzy," Mum said, sliding a pancake on to the plate nearby and dropping it neatly in front of me. "Nice evening last night?"

"As usual," I said, pouring syrup on my pancake – the regular way. "At least, almost. I met a guy who said he knew you."

There was silence in the room. Mum and Tara looked at each other in that intense way they have, and then back at me.

"What sort of guy?" asked Mum.

"The sort you dream of meeting," I replied, somewhat dreamily myself. In a way I wondered if I had just imagined the odd encounter. "Tall, dark hair. Good bones. He said I looked like you. Funny thing was, he wasn't much older than me." This odd fact had come to my notice some time in the course of my sleep and I had woken up with it at the top of my mind.

Tara got off her chair and came to stand in front of me.

"Let me look?" she asked softly. "It might be important."

I nodded. She'd done this a couple of times before. It doesn't hurt and I trust Tara enough to know she wouldn't ever look at private memories. She put her hands on my temples and closed her eyes, concentrating.

It didn't take long and in a minute she opened her eyes again.

"Lots of shadow," she said to Mum. "It doesn't help that I only saw him briefly. But …"

"Oh dear," Mum murmured. "Lizzy, he didn't – you didn't tell him where we live, did you?"

"No. C'mon, Mum, I'm not stupid."

She shook her head, and came and hugged me suddenly.

"Far from it. Tara?"

"I agree. We need to reinforce the barriers. And get the others here." When Mum and Tara have work to do they somehow stop being shy and nervous and start being assertive.

"Lizzy," said Mum, "ring the Harrises and the Wyndham-Pryces and tell them to get here before it's dark." She waved her hand and the address book flew open in front of me. 'Giles,' I read, and there was a Sacramento number. "Tell him who you are. Ask him if he can get here. Say it's urgent. If he asks for proof of who you are just tell him Buffy."

"Buffy?"

"Just that. Come and find us when you're done."

They hurried off, Mum with her arms full of ingredients, and I picked up the phone.

Anya answered at the Harrises, and I gave her Mum's cryptic message. She grumbled a bit (nothing unusual there), but said they'd get to us. At Cordelia and Wesley's it was he who replied, and when I told him what Mum had said he went really quiet.

"Wesley?" I said, checking he was still with me.

"Yes. Tell Willow we're on our way. Thank you, Lizzy."

"No problem," I told him, and put my end down. One more call to make. I dialled the Sacramento number and waited. And waited. And just as I was about to give up, the tone ended and the phone was answered.

"Rupert Giles." Another Englishman.

"Hi," I said. "My name's Liz Rosenberg. I'm Willow's daughter. She told me to call you and to say you have to try and get to Sunnydale."

"Did she … did she give you a reason?"

"No. She said it's urgent. And, oh, Buffy."

"I'll be with you by evening," the disembodied voice said, and he must have put the phone down. I looked at my receiver for a bit and went to find Mum.

Her and Tara were busy going over their barriers round the house. We have one which skirts the garden and then more at each window and door. Normal people can't see them (I only know they're there because, well, I know), but Mum says they stop demons and stuff. I humour her. It's true we've never been burgled.

I watched them for a bit as they chanted and scattered powder and only called to Mum when they moved on a few metres.

"Everyone's coming, Mum."

"Good," she said, relief in her voice. "Thanks, Lizzy."

I sat down on the doorstep. 

"Look, Mum, what's going on and what's it got to do with Mr Dreamboat?"

Mum and Tara turned as one and both regarded me gravely.

"Well?" I demanded.

Tara came and knelt in front of me.

"If I show you," she whispered, "it will scare you."

"Scare me," I said bravely. Inside bits of me were turning to jelly. "There's gotta to be a good reason for you repairing perfectly good barriers."

Tara swallowed, and then she placed my hands on her temples and hers on mine ….

*   *   *__

It's night, and we're walking swiftly through Sunnydale cemetery. On my left I can see someone who has to be Mum, but Mum much younger. On my right there's a young Anya and Xander holding hands. Just in front of us, her posture determined, there's the blonde girl from the living room photo. I wonder where Tara is and then realise I am Tara, or looking through her eyes. It's weird.

_"Riley!" the blonde girl's calling._

_"I'm sure he's safe," Mum says gently. The blonde girl whirls around and I see there's a sort of pointed stick in her hand._

_"Thanks Will," she says, "but until I've found him I'm not sure of anything. Too many people have been killed recently around here, and I'm worried."_

_"Just like the old days," mutters Xander._

_We hurry on through the graves and suddenly, the group stops. There's a figure on the ground, and the blonde girl runs to it and throws herself down._

_"Riley," she sobs, and we come close and see the pale dead face of a young man. He has these strange cuts on his neck. "When I find the vampire who did this," the girl says vehemently (vampire? I think), "he's going to wish he's never been born."_

_There is a low laugh from the shadows, and we all turn. I feel a shiver through my spine as a figure emerges, his hands in his pockets, all easy grace and confidence. It's the man I met outside the diner, looking exactly the same._

_"You don't have to look far, Buff," he says lightly. "I see what you saw in him now. Sweet." He licks his lips, and from beside me Xander makes a movement. Mum reaches out a hand and stops him._

_"No, Xander," she says. Xander halts, but in his face there's anger and hate. The blonde girl stands up, her face streaked with tears._

_"Angel?" she whispers._

_"If you insist, but I prefer Angelus these days," he tells her. Her face pales. I feel everyone tense. "Those nice people at Wolfram and Hart round my way did a little spell. Wes not pass on the message? Oh, I forgot. He's probably in hospital."_

_The atmosphere is taut now, so that I with Tara's extra senses can almost feel it springing. We all move back and leave room for the blonde girl and the man (is he a man?) called Angelus, and they circle each other warily._

_"I loved him," the girl says hopelessly. Then, after a beat, "I loved you."_

_"Why do you think I killed him?" the other asks sarcastically. "A few years back I failed to bring things to an end, my dear, but now I have a second chance."_

_"Hell wasn't good enough for you," she snarls at him._

_"Hell didn't hurt me," he snarls back. "It hurt your precious Angel, nearly broke his pathetic little soul. But I'm a demon. No problems for me in the underworld."_

_Her shoulders sag._

_"What do you want?" she asks._

_"A little rough-and-tumble, perhaps a massacre or two. Spot of torture. Oh, and some of that addictive Slayer blood of yours."_

_The rest of us gather closer together._

_"We have to do something," says Xander hopelessly._

_"He'd kill you in a second," points out Anya. "You're staying here." She takes hold of his arm possessively. _

_"But, Buffy," he protests._

_"Is the Slayer," replies Anya. "She can defend herself."_

_Mum looks at me – or looks at Tara, I can't decide which._

_"A spell?" she says, "can we do a spell? Binding, or anything?"_

_"I don't know any spells like that," I – or Tara, reply, and helpless we turn back to where the girl and her opponent are now intermittently exchanging blows. Suddenly there is a change, and the man's once handsome face undergoes a startling transformation. He develops yellow eyes and long fangs, and the battle begins. It is a blur of kicks and punches, of cracks and thuds. They seem to know each other's weaknesses and strengths without having to reflect, and the fight goes on and on._

_And then, all of a sudden, it is over. The – thing – has the girl in his arms, and expertly he has her legs trapped under his body. She cannot move. Tears are running down her cheeks._

_"Willow? Xander?" she sobs. "Do something, please!" Xander wrenches himself from Anya's grasp and runs towards them. But he is too slow, as the thing bends and bites and in a matter of seconds the girl is limp, lifeless._

_Mum and Tara-me begin to chant something in a strange language, in ragged unison, but I don't think it's any use because the thing just looks up, becomes a man again, smiles, and walks lazily away. _

_We are all frozen and nobody moves for a good minute before running towards the body of the girl …_

*   *   *

Tara took her hands off my temples and brushed the tears off my cheeks.

"You saw?"

"What was it? Who were they?" I still felt frozen, horrified by the death of that young woman.

Mum came and sat on the step and put her arm around my shoulder.

"She was our friend, our best friend. Her name was Buffy, and she was more full of life and power than anyone else I have ever met. She was the Slayer, destined to kill demons and vampires, and destined to fall in love with the only vampire who was good, who had a conscience. A soul. His name was Angel. But it couldn't work out between them, and he left her and went to Los Angeles. And there, after a few years, someone took his soul away from him and turned him back into the monster he was once, long ago." Mum sniffed, and glancing sideways at her I saw a large tear roll down her face. She swallows. "And because that is the sort of thing Angelus enjoys, he came back to kill and hurt. Nineteen years, and we have heard nothing of him in all that time."

"And now he's back," I said. "What are you going to do?"

"Discuss with the others," said Mum, trying surreptitiously to wipe her eyes. I hugged her, and Tara bent over and enfolded both of us in her sweet scent, and for a while the three of us cried, they for their long-dead friend, myself for them. 

We spent the day together as they cast spells and I did baking for the evening's meeting. We made more of the protective talismans, and then Mum and Tara went up into the attic to hunt out things they needed whilst I gave the living room a spring-clean. The activity helped us to forget the things lurking in the night to come.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer etc.: see chapter 1

Xander and Anya arrived first, around teatime. Xander looked as if he was expecting the worst as I showed them in and made them tea and called Mum down from the attic. She emerged covered in dust, holding a sort of glass ball to her chest carefully. 

In the living room, as I passed out mugs, Mum put the ball down on the coffee table and they all looked at it in a worried way.

"Is that … what I think it is?" asked Xander.

Anya put down her cup and picked up the ball.

"It's an Orb of Thesulah. Pretty mucky. Where've you been keeping it?"

"Sweet Jesus, no," said Xander, his face white. "Will, tell me this is a dream and you need a paperweight. Please?"

Mum shook her head sadly.

"Lizzy ran into him last night." Three faces swung to me in the doorway. 

"I'm fine," I said quickly.

"It's time to end the whole thing for once and for all, in some way," Mum continued. 

The doorbell rang, and I went to open it to Cordelia and Wesley who hurried through to the others. I made more tea. The atmosphere was pretty tense and nobody said anything as they sipped tea and watched the clock and watched the diminishing light outside.

"Giles is coming?" asked Wesley, once, and Mum nodded, and they all went back to clock-watching.

Tara came back from her expedition to the magic shop about sixish, loaded with sacks of supplies. I brought out the brownies and Anya nibbled one. Nobody else touched a thing. The clock hand swung round. The sun started to set. And then, with a harshness that made us all jump, the bell rang again.

I glanced through the spy hole just in case before opening, and saw a distorted image of an elderly man I had never seen in my life before. I undid the chain and opened up.

"Good grief," said the old man. "You're Willow's daughter, I presume?"

"Come in," I invited. "Mr … Giles, is it?"

"Just Giles," he replied, giving me his coat. "All through here? Good, good." He walked through into the living room slowly, and I followed him and closed the door.

The council of war lasted a good few hours, and for most of it I didn't really get what the adults were talking about. They kept referring to odd bits of ancient history, always beginning with, "Remember when," or, "How about that time," but nothing was really decided.

Eventually, they did stop reminiscing and turned to the present and I woke up a bit. The old man, Giles, seemed to be in charge, though I couldn't imagine for the life of me where they'd picked him up. He sipped some cold tea, repressed a grimace, and looked round at them all.

"The question is," he said, "what do we do? I see we have two choices. We, erm, attempt to restore the soul, or we destroy him for good."

"Destroy," said Xander instantly. "You all know I never liked Angel. I never trusted him and I couldn't see him again if we brought him back."

"Destroy," Anya added. "So maybe it's the vengeance demon speaking, but if ever a candidate existed …" She ended her sentence with a decisive nod. "It's him."

Tara wrinkled her nose and surprised me by speaking up.

"Destroy," she said, a little timidly (that didn't surprise me.) "I didn't know Buffy very well, or Riley, or Angel, but I saw what you all went through, and I don't want that to happen again." She clutched Mum's hand.

Those who had spoken looked at those who hadn't. Both Cordelia and Wesley were frowning, exchanging a look, and finally Wesley spoke for them both.

"We spent more time with – with Angel, than the rest of you," he began. "We worked with him, went out with him, shared meals …"

"He cooked," broke in Cordelia.

"He looked out for us and worried about us. And I have utterly no idea why he didn't kill us instantly when he lost his soul again. Let's just say we were lucky to have simply ended up with those few weeks in Intensive Care. Somehow, though, I can't bring myself to hate Angelus. I fear him. We all do. But he's a vampire, and he's doing what vampires do."

"He killed Buffy!" exclaimed Xander. 

"Vampires and Slayers are mortal enemies," Wesley pointed out. "If we destroy Angelus we destroy Angel and we destroy an old friend. I vote for restoring the soul."

"Me too," Cordelia said. And uncharacteristically fell silent.

Giles and Mum were the only ones left to speak. Mum had her head bowed and that worried expression on her face, thinking. I thought I knew which way she would go. Giles seemed to be staring into space, his eyes blank. Eventually Mum lifted her head.

"I know I can do the spell again," she said. "And I think I want to. But what will it do to Angel?"

Giles put his glasses back on.

"Angelus has to be stopped," he said bluntly. "I confess I have to disagree with Wesley when he says that he's just doing what vampires do. Angelus was never a normal vampire. They kill to feed. Angelus, and Spike after him, and because of him, ki – killed for pure pleasure." A shadow of ancient pain flew across Giles's lined brow. "Normal vampires don't torture people."

Torture, I thought from my corner. Owch! And, I added to myself, I was having a nice little chat with this thing?

"B – but," continued Giles. "In the same way, normal vampires don't help us, don't help Slayers, don't fall in love with them. Like Willow I'm concerned about the … the effects of restoring the soul now. With the mem … memory of what he did to Buffy, it might just break Angel. We risk ending up with a mad vampire on our hands, and that could be more dangerous than anything." He paused. "I'm sorry. I'm very sorry. If we could turn back time …"

"Too difficult," chorused Mum and Tara.

"I know. She's gone, and there is nothing we can do about that. We will have to destroy Angelus for good."

Silence fell. Wesley and Cordelia huddled closer together. Mum bit her lip. Only Xander seemed at all content.

"But how?" I found myself saying suddenly. Everyone looked at me, seven pairs of eyes like headlights. I felt a bit like a rabbit. "If he killed your friend, who was supposed to kill him," I offered, "how are we going to manage?"

I fell asleep in my corner before the plan got finished, and I woke up the next morning still there but covered by a blanket. The room was empty, but from the kitchen I heard voices, and I got stiffly up and followed my ears (not quite, I mean, if I'd done that I've have been walking like a crab, but you know what I mean.)

None of them seemed to have had much sleep. Even Cordelia was looking the worse for wear, and Xander was positively haggard. When I came in they all looked at me, as one, and I guess that was when I first realised something was up.

Mum sat me down at the table and pushed a mug of coffee into my hands, and they explained.

"No!" I said. "Mum? I can't. I'm scared." I was. I was utterly terrified.

"You're our only hope," returned Wesley. "He knows us. All he knows about you is that you're Willow's daughter."

"But I can't!" I repeated. "What if it goes wrong?"

Giles shook his head.

"It won't. Trust us."

"You'll be safe," murmured Tara, patting my shoulder.

"You have an advantage. You know what he is. He doesn't know you know."

"Oh Christ," I swore, and surprisingly Giles smiled.

"He'll be with you too."

I slept most of the day, but I had nasty nightmares (or perhaps that should be daymares?) about fangs and things. Mum came and woke me at fourish, and by five thirty, with the trunks of the cars loaded, the adults all left and I was alone.

I dressed carefully in the clothes Mum had told me to wear. A v-necked shimmery green top I was rather fond of, black skirt and knee-high boots, a touch of makeup and a spot of perfume. I left my hair loose. I was pretty pleased with the effect, in the end. In my purse I found a chunky wooden cross, a phial labelled 'Holy Water', and a pointed stick like the one Buffy had had in her hand in the vision Tara had shown me. I assumed I was supposed to try and defend myself as a last resort.

Half an hour after it had got dark, I gathered together my courage and left the house, setting out down the street as if I was going somewhere. This time I knew the sensation of being followed was probably accurate, and sure enough, a block en route, he caught me up.

I stopped and turned and was surprised to find it easy to smile at him. (Though it's always easy to smile at men in leather pants and maroon velvet shirts.)

"Elizabeth," he said. "Good evening."

"Hi," I returned. "Mum's friend."

"Oh, call me Angel," he invited. "Are you on your way somewhere?"

"Just the Bronze," I replied, offhand. He laughed.

"That old place? Still there? Wonders will never cease. May I invite you for a drink?"

"I'm not old enough," I said, stupidly.

"That's no problem. I know somewhere where they won't mind."

I nodded, gripping my purse and its precious contents tightly.

"All right."

He took my arm and we set off.

"You look good enough to eat," Angelus said chillingly. I forced a smile.

"Thanks."

We went through the town centre and down some steps and he pushed open the door to a dark little bar. I couldn't see the faces of the other customers; Mum said later it was probably just as well. Angelus sat me down in a booth and went to the bar. I noticed that the barman (a thin little man with a face like a shrew, a bit younger than Giles) left another client to serve him. In a minute he was back with a glass of vodka and lime for me and whisky for him. 

"This is nice," I said cheerfully. We clinked glasses and drank. "So, er, Angel, how d'you know my mum?"

"Oh, she tutored me in maths for a few months once," he answered lightly. "She didn't say?"

"She wasn't interested," I lied. "Just said lots of people know her, which is true."

"I seem to remember she used to be interested in magic," Angelus said, seemingly offhand.

"She stopped that years ago!" I exclaimed, hoping I wasn't overacting. "Says she grew out of it. Just a phase and all that."

"Very likely." He leant forwards over his glass and examined me very intensely, his dark eyes running over me. I giggled for no apparent reason, and he smiled back in that disarmingly seductive way. The vodka combined with nerves had gone straight to my head. 

We talked about small nothings for a little while. He said he was interested in what I did, but he kept looking at my bare neck. Although this was the intention of the green top, it made me even more nervous. After the second drink I was getting a little tipsy, not a good idea, and so I grinned and said I was hungry.

"Hungry? You haven't eaten?" He drained his glass and stood up smoothly. "Neither have I. Come to my place and we'll eat there."

I knew what he meant by eating, but I got up, exaggerating my drunkenness.

"Okay. But I need to phone my mum and tell her I'll be late."

In a flash a mobile phone was produced and placed in my hand, and he helped me up the steps and outside. I moved a little away and dialled Cordelia's number (she was the only one who had a phone), and she answered almost immediately.

"Hi, Mum?" I said. "Lizzy."

"Where are you?" Cordelia said. "Are you with him?"

"I'm going to be late home tonight," I said urgently, "I'm going to a friend's house for dinner."

"Well done, Lizzy," she said. "Watch out."

"No, I won't do anything stupid. Yes, he's a friend from school. See you. Bye."

I ended the call to Cordelia's hasty warnings and handed the phone back.

"Ready!" I said.

To get to Angelus's place we had to go round the cemetery, which was spooky now I'd seen what Mum and the others had. He knew his way around it well enough. I giggled a bit more and pretended to be a carefree teenager, but he failed to respond. He had gone cold and silent and he was starting to really scare me now.

The 'house' was actually an old, half-ruined mansion set in secluded grounds at the other end of the cemetery. There wasn't a proper door, only some thick curtains. But inside everything was really swish, all art-deco furniture, candlesticks and things. I stood in the vast hall and stared. Angelus threw off his leather coat and watched me.

"Like it?"

"It's wonderful," I said. I did like it, but I was starting to wish Mum and the others would show themselves. He was circling me a bit like our cat circles birds in the garden.

"Really? It's dark and cold and dusty. Are you cold?"

"No," I said, "just hungry."

"Rubbish," he laughed, "you're not just hungry. You're completely terrified. You've listened to Willow's stories and you're hoping she'll turn up and cast a spell or something any second." He clicked his fingers and a curtain was drawn back by unseen hands, and in a shock of cold fright I saw the seven adults, each held in a tight grip by a vampire. Angelus waved his hand at them.

"I was guessing maybe Xander and Willow, not the whole little gang," he said. "Cordy. Wes. How are you?"

Wesley's eyes widened and he tried to speak under the vampire's hand. Angelus nodded at the creature who let go enough for his prisoner to talk.

"Better before seeing you," Wesley spat out. 

"How did you know they'd be here?" I stammered, my voice hoarse. I opened my bag with one hand, feeling for the cross.

"You're a dreadful actress," he said cuttingly, sitting gracefully in a chair. "And anyway I checked the number you had called on my phone. There can't be two C. Wyndham-Pryces. A stupid plan that bears all the hallmarks." He beckoned with one long pale finger and the vampire holding Giles dragged him past me. "Rupert, Rupert," admonished Angelus. "I worked with you long enough – or the pathetic part of me did – to recognise your scent anywhere. You're looking a little aged. Years not hanging well?" He paused. "By the way, I don't remember seeing you when the Slayer failed so valiantly to save herself. Great Watching."

Giles visibly sagged. I got hold of the stick in my bag and began edging very slowly towards the others. Everybody was intently watching Angelus; he seemed to inspire a sort of magnetic attraction. They seemed to have forgotten about me.

"So what are you doing these days?" the vampire continued. "Researching? Indexing? Drinking too much?"

"The only thing concerning you," said Giles with an effort, "is how quickly we kill you."

The other vampires all laughed, a horrible sound. Angelus smiled with them, but then he leant towards Giles and the smile switched off like a light.

"You're going to kill me? You and your little band of nobodies? Ex-Watchers, couple of witches, an ex-demon, the world's worst actress and a comic writer – who, by the way, Xander, is not funny? Oh, please. Rupert, you're getting far too confident in your old age."

I had been inching closer to Mum all the time, and as Angelus completed his sentence and stood up, I rammed the stick into the back of the vampire holding her, hoping to knock him off balance or something. To my utter astonishment the thing disappeared in a cloud of dust. Mum threw me a grateful glance and instantly began chanting in Latin. I got the cross out and shielded her from the other vampires, who seemed not to know what to do. 

Angelus's attention was torn away from Giles, and he actually growled. Everything got confused then. My head was spinning from Mum's chanting and the smell of the herbs she was waving. I was waving the cross at Xander's vampire, who had let go of him and was trying to get me. Xander pulled a stick out of his waistband and stabbed the creature in the back before attacking Anya's captor.

In the centre of the room Angelus had thrown Giles's vampire off him and had grabbed the old Englishman himself.

"Stop!" he shouted, and we all froze except for Mum who kept right on chanting. She'd changed from Latin to a funny foreign language, and in the silence her voice rose, commanding. "I know that," Angelus said, and still holding Giles he moved towards us. "Shut up, Willow," he threatened, "or I kill Rupert here."

Mum looked back at him but kept going and now Tara, who had wrenched herself free of her confused guard, joined in. Angelus's face changed to match his minions', and he bent and for a second we saw the glint of candlelight on fangs.

"Giles!" said Wesley. "Willow, stop."

Mum raised her hands and there was a flash of blinding light. We all blinked, and when we could see again, Giles was flat on the floor, and by his side there was a figure curled up, shaking uncontrollably.

The vampires still around ran (sensibly, in my opinion.) As a group we went towards Giles, Wesley getting there first and bending over the prostrate figure.

"He's still alive. Thank God."

Mum had gone to the shaking figure, and gently, concern all over her face, she touched its shoulder. And Angelus started and looked up.

Yet somehow it wasn't Angelus anymore. The face was the same, but in his eyes and his posture, the shaking and such, it wasn't him. He looked up and around.

"Willow?" he said, when his eyes fell on me. "Willow."

"I'm Willow," Mum told him, bobbing down to his eye level. "Angel, are you all right?"

"You're Willow? But Willow's young. Where's Buffy? I don't remember. I don't remember anything." His eyes flitted around the room. "Why am I here? I was in Los Angeles. There was …" And suddenly realisation must have hit him because his eyes widened. "No. Oh, no. Buffy." The sound was a wail, a horrible sound of grief and guilt and hurt that made me want to stop up my ears. "Buffy." He fell into Mum's arms and sobs filled the room.

We watched him cry. Wesley had produced a bandage from somewhere and bound Giles's wounds, and helped him sit up. Suddenly Xander moved, an angry movement not like himself at all, and followed by Anya he turned and ran out of the hall.

"Don't follow him," Mum said, her words slightly muffled by the shaking creature in her arms. The rest of us began quietly to clear up the bags and things. 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: see chapter 1

Author's note: sorry about the huge spaces, something to do with the html formatting which I need in this one.

In the end I think they decided to take Angelus back to our place. Mum and Tara took him in our car and I went with Wesley and Cordelia and a very ill Giles in theirs. It was nearly midnight when we pulled up, and Mum and Tara were manoeuvring Angelus through the barriers. We followed them into the house.

I haven't been exposed to grief. Not having known my dad, it never bothered me he wasn't there, and none of my relatives (I haven't got many, having only one parent) have died. Mum kept her feelings about the past well enough subdued for me not to know about them particularly. Once, the father of one of my friends died, and that was pretty bad. This was a hundred times worse. I guess if you suddenly discover you killed the only person you ever loved it hits you pretty hard. We sat Angelus down in the living room but he kept on shaking and crying. The sobs had got less but his shirt was soaked. Mum gave him a hanky and in ten minutes it was damp and stained a sort of pale pink. Wesley and Cordelia were upstairs somewhere with Giles and so there was just the three of us and the vampire in the room. Eventually Mum sat down on the sofa next to him.

"Angel," she said softly, reassuringly. The sort of voice she used with me when I had nightmares. "You're safe."

"Safe?" He lifted a ravaged face to Mum's. "Safe? Safe from what, Willow? I killed her. I killed Buffy. So many people, and Buffy. How can I be saved?" He shook his head. "Why won't they stop talking, Willow?"

I saw Tara's face all screwed up next to me, and I knew she could feel the pain inside her head. Heck, I could almost feel it myself. Mum held Angelus's hand and glanced at me. 

"Lizzy. Water and the sleeping pills."

I nodded and went to get them, grateful to get out of the room and away from all that pain. In the process of fetching the little bottle of sleeping pills from the medicine cupboard I popped my head around the door of Giles's room and saw him asleep. Wesley and Cordelia had dozed off too, she sitting on the floor with her head on the bed, he half on the bed next to Giles. I went back to Mum.

She pressed the water and five of the pills into Angelus's hand.

"Take these, Angel. You'll sleep and when you wake you'll feel better, I promise. If you don't take them I'll have to do another spell, and I'd rather not this soon."

He looked at the tablets with aching eyes, and then nodded and swallowed them down. Mum stood up and eased his legs on to the sofa. 

"Now, sleep," she ordered, and glanced at me. "You too. No argument."

She had her resolved face on, the one you don't argue with, and I kissed her and Tara good night and went to bed.

In the night I was woken by an awful cry from across the hall (my room's on the ground floor), and I heard footsteps and soft discussion and then there was silence again.

Next morning, in the harsh light of day, it all seemed a bit unreal. I lay awake for a while, drinking in the sunlight through my curtains, and I got up eventually and wandered through to the kitchen. I avoided the living room on purpose.

Xadner and Anya were still not there, but the rest of them, including Giles, were sitting around drinking tea silently. I made myself some coffee and perched on the counter. For once, Mum didn't tell me to get down.

"Morning?" I tried.

"More like afternoon," pointed out Cordelia. "It's one o'clock, Lizzy."

I glanced at the oven clock and registered she was right.

"Oh."

"You slept?" asked Mum, turning her head.

"In stages," I told her. "Sort of disturbed. I didn't dream it, last night?"

She shook her head.

"No, you didn't dream. He's asleep. I had to – we had to put a spell on him, in the end. The sleeping pills weren't strong enough."

Giles rubbed his neck thoughtfully. He looked a lot better, but tired.

"That was really what I was worried about," he said, "that the soul … that it wouldn't be able to take the memories."

Mum creased her eyes.

"Giles, it was that or getting you killed. We needed the circle, we needed five people, we needed time to do the spell we had planned originally. I had to. I had no choice."

He nodded, and smiled gently at her, in rather a fatherly way.

"Willow, I'm not blaming you."

"I am," interrupted a voice from the doorway. We all turned to see Xander, grey rings around his eyes, leaning against the doorframe. "Will, how could you have done it?"

Mum stood up, her shoulders firm, her fists slightly clenched.

"He's harmless this way. He can't hurt anyone any more."

"Can't he?" I had never seen Xander like this before, not bitter and angry. And never, ever, angry at Mum. They had been friends since kindergarten, her and him, inseparable all through school. He was like the brother Mum had never had, she was his helper and guide and tutor. They had never raised their voices at each other in my presence. "Can't he?" repeated Xander. "Has everybody forgotten what he did? Not just recently, but before? Giles? Cordy?"

"Of course I haven't forgotten," Giles said in a low voice, and Mum looked at him and back at Xander with daggers in her eyes. I half-expected to see real daggers fly at him. 

"Don't bring her up now," she warned. "Just don't, Xander. You were always so hurt by Angel. Always jealous. You took everything so personally. And in fact it never touched you."

"My friends were in danger," Xander came back. "You were in danger, Will. That spell – it nearly killed you twice, and you still did it again?"

Mum said nothing. I swallowed and watched her. Xander was scaring me a bit, in this strange mood. 

"What happened?" asked Mum, after a minute. "What happened the day that Buffy killed him and ran away? Did you give her my message?"

"Your message?"

"Did you tell her I was going to do the spell again?" said Mum, quietly. From my vantage point on the counter I could see each of them; Giles with his head bowed, Cordelia staring at Xander, Wesley at Mum, Tara with her hands twisted together, and Mum and Xander with their eyes locked. Suddenly Xander's eyes filled with tears and he literally collapsed on to the floor, shaking his head.

"No. No. I couldn't, Will, I got to her and she was so determined with the sword in her hand, and I told her you said to be careful. I couldn't. She didn't know."

Mum just looked at Xander and then turned away to Tara. 

I left my coffee and went for a walk, trying to get away from the emotion and the things I didn't understand in that house. I thought I understood them, even with my odd parentage, but all of a sudden I found I didn't understand anything. I walked pretty blindly but found my steps heading towards the cemetery; it was quiet and calm in the sun, almost pleasant if it hadn't been full of dead people. I bypassed the old mausoleums and graves and headed for the more recent ones, searching for a name. I found it on a clean white marble headstone, cared for by someone, with a little white rose plant growing in front. "Buffy Summers," I read aloud, "The Chosen One. 1981 – 2001." I sat down on the grass and wondered. 

I wondered about a lot of things. I wondered about myself. It shocked me – it shocks me now, as I sit in front of my computer screen writing this – that I took everything so calmly, relatively speaking. And that I'd gone out the night before dressed to be killed by a vampire. Yet it didn't seem strange, really, I accepted it because odd things are my life. I'm used to Tara mind reading and I'm used to Mum casting spells here there and everywhere to make people's lives better. But somehow, the vampire in the living room was the strangest of all, and not least because of the reaction of otherwise perfectly ordinary people like Xander. 

I sat in front of Buffy Summers's grave and I wondered about her, this girl whose face I had only seen twice in my life; on the wall and in Tara's memory. She was dead. I'd seen her die. But she was alive in the minds of Mum and the others, she meant so much that they were prepared to risk their lives to avenge her death. She must have been extraordinary. And at some stage she'd fallen in love with, and yes, it comes back to him again, the vampire in the living room. When I realised that I got up and went home, wanting answers.

The living room curtains were still shut, and so was the door, as I paused outside it, but there were low voices coming from inside the room. In the kitchen (still there) I found everyone except Giles, Mum and the others picking at pizza from a cardboard box.

When Giles found out I was going to write this account he said that I had to know what everyone said in the living room that day, to make it faithful. He says if I send him a copy he'll send it on to people he knows in London, where it will become part of a big history about Slayers and vampires, and Buffy Summers and Angelus in particular. They all listened to Giles and they all came and told me, which impressed me and surprised me at once. Xander was a bit reluctant, but I think out of respect for Giles he told me too. 

Cordelia and Wesley went first. Wesley did the talking, with interruptions from Cordelia when she thought it was necessary.

*   *   *

"You have to know, Liz," Wesley began, "that before you were born, after Cordelia and the others finished high school, we – me and Cordelia worked for Angel in Los Angeles. We ran a sort of detective firm and killed demons."

"Angel Investigations. We help the helpless," added Cordelia brightly, with a sort of fixed smile on her face. Then she lost the smile. "Before we became the helpless."

"We found a prophecy that said after the battles, after the thwarted apocalypses and so on, Angel would become human. We worked towards that, we hoped for it. He was our friend and he deserved his redemption." Wesley sighed, a sigh full of longing and nostalgia. "There's a law firm in LA called Wolfram and Hart. They deal with the underworld. They're practically on the side of evil. For reasons best known to themselves they did not want Angel to – to 'shanshu', to regain his humanity, and so they sprang a plot to end it." He reached for Cordelia's hand and held it tightly throughout his tale. "Angel received a polite note to attend a meeting at Wolfram and Hart. We all went. We armed ourselves. We didn't know what to expect. Everything started normally, the senior partners were there, the people involved with Angel. They seemed nervous, but that was normal. They didn't understand Angel, and many of them were scared of him." Wesley laughed shortly and without actually finding anything funny. "They hadn't researched. Good research is so important. They'd looked at his history briefly, thought he was just a vampire who'd happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and got punished for it. We sat down. And then the door opened and a mage arrived and started a spell. It froze us all, there was so much light and a kind of hum in the air, all centred around Angel, and when it ended and the door closed on the mage there was silence. We thought they'd killed Angel. He seemed to be unconscious, or dead, and I got up and went to him." He stopped talking and looked at Cordelia, who nodded and took up the tale.

"Angel kind of looked up and smiled at Wes and then he just picked him up and threw him across the room. I guess I should have gone to see if Wes was all right but it was like I couldn't move. Angel got up from his seat and he had the sword in his hand that he'd brought in case. The lawyers were all backing away, except for a guy called Lindsay who'd got his hand chopped off by Angel before. Lindsay nodded at Angel and said, 'Welcome back, Angelus,' and I think I screamed and then Lindsay was … headless. I must have screamed again. Then I … don't remember."

"We woke up later to a massacre," resumed Wesley, sombre. "There were paramedics. I couldn't move my head. Cordelia had bruises and there was blood everywhere. Angel – Angelus had gone. We got taken to the hospital and we weren't let out until five weeks later, and by that time Buffy was dead."

"God," I whispered, despite myself. "So … what did you say to him?"

"Today?" said Wesley. "We went in when Willow told us he was awake. I don't think he wanted to see us."

"Hello, Angel," said Wesley. 

_Angel looked up and barely acknowledged their presence. _

_"Look, I know you don't know what to say, and I don't either, not really," continued Wesley, awkwardly adjusting his glasses in the gloom. "But it's not your fault. None of it ever was. None of us blame you."_

_"Xander blames me," said Angel, staring at the floor. "Xander always did blame me. Xander is right."_

_"Xander Harris is as selfish as ever," Cordelia said with conviction. "You're worth ten of him."_

_"Thank you, Cordelia," Angel whispered. "I didn't mean … what I said last night …"_

_"World's worst actress?" asked Cordelia. "You did and you're right."_

_"I wish we hadn't gone to that meeting," said Wesley. "We should have known they'd have had something up their sleeve."_

_"It hurt, so much," Angel said, finally looking up. "Like I was being ripped in two. And then the pain went, and all I saw … all I felt …was that room full of life waiting to be ended."_

_"You missed two," said Cordelia, trying to be cheerful._

_"I'm glad," Angel replied. "On top of everything else … I couldn't have borne that too. Not you two. Those years in LA were the happiest I had, ever. I felt I was wanted."_

_"You still are wanted," admonished Wesley. "We all want you. You have to separate yourself from the demon, Angel."_

_"The demon's always going to be a part of me," Angel shook his head. "I can't separate myself from it, however hard I try, however much I think I have succeeded, it always betrays me in the end. It betrayed me with Buffy." At her name he bent his head again and they watched him surreptitiously wipe away tears with aching hearts. _

_"It needn't always be with you," Wesley reminded him. "The prophecy still stands, I'm sure. You're still what you were. You can still become human, Angel."_

_The vampire shook his head._

_"Not now, Wesley. Not now."_

He said nothing more and they left him alone in the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer etc.: see chapter 1

"Giles," said Angel, as the door opened and closed again quietly.

_The Englishman took an armchair opposite him and sat down. _

_"I hope you're feeling better."_

_"Better? What's better?" Their eyes met. "I keep hearing her voice, Giles."_

_"You may always hear it," said Giles gently. "Some voices never leave you."_

_"Miss Calendar," breathed the vampire._

_Giles acknowledged this with a nod and a half-smile._

["Hang on," I interrupted him, "who's Miss Calendar?"

"I was in love with her once," Giles told me. "She … Angelus killed her, a long time ago. Before the latest oc – occasion."]

"You and I have more in common than the others," Giles continued. "Our lives were both centred around the same person. Willow had Tara, and Xander. Xander had Willow and Anya. But you and me both lived only for Buffy. I know that. I know you regret what Angelus did."

_"Stop it!" cried Angel. He got up and started pacing the room. "Stop it! Everyone keeps saying that. That Angelus and Angel are not the same person. They are, Giles. I have memories stretching back nearly three hundred years. I remember what I did as a boy, days spent fishing in Galway harbour, I remember seeing Darla in that alleyway, I remember my first kill and the first time I sired another vampire and the night I saw Drusilla and when I brought her Spike, and the gypsy girl," his words running out fast and angry now, "and wandering Europe tortured by voices that would not leave me, and lonely years on the streets of New York, and the first glimpse of golden hair in the sunshine," the voice obscured by choking sobs, "after all those years in the dark, Giles. I meant something to somebody. We shared a moment of true happiness, and then I hurt her and her friends – and her Watcher, and was punished for it. But her love brought me back. And I left her and walked away, not once but again and again, and then I killed her. I did all that. Me."_

_Giles was silent, stunned by the torrent of emotion. He could not remember ever having heard Angel say so much in one go. The vampire stopped pacing and suddenly dropped to the floor in front of the old man. _

_"I hurt Buffy, but her suffering is over. Yours isn't, Giles. You were a good Watcher. The best. You loved her. You gave everything for her."_

_"I would have done," stammered Giles, looking down at the dark head bowed in front of him._

_"You did. Do you remember that day in the mansion? The day with Acathla?"_

_Giles nodded, flexing his fingers gently without seeming to realise it. Angel looked up and their eyes met._

_"Nobody ever lasted that long. I can't forgive myself, Giles …"_

_Giles took off his glasses and after a second's hesitation laid his hand on the vampire's shoulder._

_"I forgave you long ago, Angel."_

_For a moment there was complete understanding between them, and Giles got up and went out before it could be broken._

*   *   *

Giles sat silent after he had recited his conversation to me.

"It's true," he said, half to himself. "I did forgive him long ago." He came back from his memory and stood and patted me on the shoulder. "This is good work, Lizzy. Thank you."

Xander arrived as I was still pondering Giles's story, and half lay down on my bed.

"I don't want to do this," he started. "I'm only doing it for Giles and for Will."

"Xander," I said, "you don't like him, do you?"

Xander sat up.

"You got that. You're as sharp as your mother, Liz. No, I hate him. I think I always did. Ever since the first day Buffy turned up at school all starry-eyed about her mysterious stranger."

"What did you say to him?"

*   *   *

Xander closed the door and stood looking down at Angel.

_"Don't say anything," he warned. "I've not come to discuss. I've come to say."_

_"Then say and have done, Xander," said the vampire wearily. _

_"All right. You should never have come to Sunnydale. Whatever your reason, you just shouldn't have come. And you should have left when you saw it getting serious between you and Buffy. She'd have been all right if you hadn't been there. So many times in that year after she was seventeen she nearly died because she was thinking about you. Always you. Always Angel this, Angel that. You're a vampire. It's not – it was never right. I'd have thought you had enough experience of life – or being, anyway – to know when to stop. And then you had to …" Xander couldn't finish. "Yes, I hate you, Angel. And you will never have my forgiveness, if forgiveness is what you're looking for. Willow might be able to give it, or Giles, or Cordy and Wesley, but not me. Never me."_

_"You've finally said it," Angel returned. "I've known that since you told Faith I was back and she tried to kill me. You know why Buffy would never agree to going out with you, Xander? It was because she knew how much Willow liked you. She loved you as much as everyone else in her way, but she couldn't hurt her best friend. You messed up your own life, Xander, not me. Blame me for killing Buffy, because I did that, and blame me for Spike and Drusilla, because I did that too, but don't blame me for your own failures. Goodbye."_

_He turned away from Xander._

*   *   *

"That was it?" I asked.

"That was it." Xander got up and started to leave. "Lizzy, as your mother's oldest friend, please don't show that to her. Or to Anya."

"Promise," I said, and he gave me a sort of smile and went out of my room, leaving me with even more to ponder.

Mum came in later that evening, after I had been to see Angel too (I felt I had to, but more about that in a bit).

"Giles told me what you're doing, Lizzy. Thank you. You don't know how valuable it might be."

I hugged her and breathed in her special Mum-scent and her red hair mixed with mine.

"I love you, Mum," I told her, suddenly wanting to let her know.

"I know, sweetheart. I love you too." She disentangled herself from the hug and sat down on the floor with her back against the bed, clutching her knees to her and looking up at me. She looked very young all of a sudden. "Okay, this is my part."

*   *   *

Mum sat down on the sofa next to Angel and passed him a plastic bag of blood. 

"You haven't eaten all day."

_"Oh, Willow." Angel took the bag and held it uncertainly._

_"Drink up and don't be embarrassed. Resolved Face."_

_Angel smiled in spite of himself and turned away from her. Mum waited until he had finished before talking again._

_"Are you feeling a bit more like yourself?"_

_"Which self? I'm feeling more like I did about ten years after the gypsies first cursed me. I'm not quite back to how I was in Sunnydale yet."_

_"Angel, I'm sorry. I had to do the spell, you understand that?"_

_"You were right, Willow. Right not to risk any lives. The lives of those you love."_

_"I love all of them."_

_"I know you do. You always cared, Willow."_

_Mum took his cold hand in hers._

_"And I care about you too, Angel. I want you to get better again. I know it'll be hard, but in a few months you can be back fighting demons every night and doing good. And the prophecy that Wesley told us about."_

_He shook his head sadly._

_"No. No, there's no chance of that. Believe me, Willow. I've had my chances and I've blown them all."_

_"Nobody can resist a spell."_

_"But it's possible to resist a message," he pointed out. "What if it happened again?"_

_Mum smiled, a little proudly._

_"It won't. It's stuck for good this time. No magic in the world can take your soul away from you again. I've been working on that spell for nineteen years and last night I know it was right. I felt it."_

_Tears rolled slowly down his face yet again._

_"You're a good witch, Willow, and the best friend anyone could have. Whether they be vampire, Slayer, Watcher … we all owe you so much."_

_Mum glanced away, embarrassed, her cheeks glowing red._

_"Thank you," Angel said simply. They sat in silence together, remembering._

*   *   *

Mum sniffed a little, and then got up.

"I'm going to make some dinner."

"I'll be along shortly," I told her. "I have something else to write."

*   *   *

I went to see Angel – after what the adults had told me I'd somehow dropped the ending of his name – after Xander had left me. In an odd way I felt I owed it to him. And also I needed to convince myself he was real to get rid of the annoying nagging feeling that I was having a very long and detailed dream.

I knocked on the door and when there was no answer opened it anyway. The living room was gloomy, the curtains shut and the lights turned off, and I could see absolutely nothing for a minute. 

"Hey," I said into the darkness. "Anybody here?"

There was a movement and a pale face turned towards me.

"Elizabeth."

"Lizzy, or Liz, please," I said, but I think my nerves showed through my voice. "Nobody calls me Elizabeth except Mum when she's mad."

"Willow mad. Enough to make anyone scared." His voice was nostalgic. "El – Lizzy, I … I apologise for last night. I'm sorry if you were … frightened."

I moved across the room and perched on the end of the sofa where I could actually see him.

"I was, a bit," I admitted. "Like, I knew Mum and Giles and the others would be there, but still … but I'm not now."

"Really?" He sounded doubtful, and sad.

"No." I found I wasn't. "I've been talking to people."

"Ah." The single syllable held masses of meaning, and he turned away from me. 

"Tara showed me her memory," I explained. "What happened nineteen years ago – I saw it like I was there. You, then, and last night – I don't think that's you now." There was a bitter little laugh from the darkness. "I don't," I ploughed on. "Mum and the others, they care about you. They're worried out there. This wasn't their plan, but they're glad it turned out this way really."

"You're so like your mother," Angel said. "I remember the times she used to give us all a good talking to, admonishing us for treating Buf … Buffy too severely."

"You loved her," I said.

"I will always love her," he returned, glancing up at me with those gorgeous brown eyes. But where the night before I'd seen a glint of confidence and charm there was only pain and longing and guilt. It made him all the more appealing, in a way. More genuine. More … more like someone you could trust. "Even … even during the last years, even without my soul, I was always obsessed by her. She was my reason for continuing, before. Why should I continue now?"

"Because people want you around," I told him firmly. 

"I would love to think that, Lizzy," he murmured, his voice low. "Yet in all my years I've never been convinced of anything less. But thank you, anyway."

I smiled at him, guessing that probably he could see me smiling even if I could barely see him.

"No problem. See you later."

I left him in the darkness.

*   *   *

At dinner we were all very quiet. I don't believe Tara said a single word, and the rest of us just asked for pepper and butter and things. Afterwards Cordelia and Wesley said they were going, and nothing Mum could say would convince them to stay for another night. They said they'd be in touch. Xander and Anya had already gone. I don't think Xander could bear to be in the same house as Angel. It was sad. I like Xander a lot, he's always been a sort of uncle to me, and seeing him scowling and silent was really painful. Giles, still obviously not quite back to normal, excused himself after dinner and went up to the spare bedroom with a cup of tea and an old book. Mum and Tara started washing up. In the end, after a sporadic email check, I went to bed.

I was woken before dawn by Mum rushing into my room and turning on the light.

"Angel's gone," she said, throwing clothes at me with frantic waves of her hands. "I'm worried, Lizzy. We have to find him."

I started pulling on the clothes, half-asleep. 

"Gone?"

She handed me a small piece of paper, one side of which was last week's shopping list, the other side written on in neat copperplate.

'_Dear Willow. I'll be gone by the time you find this, gone to join her. It's been a long time and I'm tired of everything. A long journey from Galway to Sunnydale, and it's painful. I don't deserve your kindness and your sweet words and I won't stay to haunt your nights any longer. I'm sorry, sorry for everything. Angel._'

"The cemetery!" I said, suddenly wide awake. 

Mum grabbed the car keys and we ran. The streets of the town were quiet and the sky above was turning paler by the second. We drove too fast and jumped lights but by the time we reached the cemetery we could see each other's drawn faces. Mum was pale and worried, her brow pinched, as we raced through the dewy grass. Somehow there was no need for words, we both knew where we were going, and we slowed as we got there.

In the first rays of the new sun the white stone shone golden, and still in shadow the tall figure was black as it bent over, weeping. 

"Angel!" shouted Mum. I skidded to a halt and let her do the talking. This was her friend, not mine. "Angel, get inside, please," she said. I saw tears running down her cheeks as he looked up.

"It's too late, Willow," he said, smiling at her. "It's too late." He looked up at the red sky. "Isn't it beautiful? I'd forgotten what the sun was like."

"Please," begged Mum. 

"No," he replied. The sun came up and the light caught his face, reflecting it for a second in a halo of iridescent gold. Suddenly he looked beyond Mum, and held out his hand to an unseen person, and smiled, and then there was a burst of flame.

The dust fell to the ground, scattering the white rose with specks of black. 

Mum sank to her knees and I went to her, and held her as she cried.

We're having his name added to Buffy's gravestone. The others are all in agreement, even Xander, which surprised me. We're not bothering with dates. For a start nobody seems very sure exactly how old Angel was, and apparently it all depends on whether you start from when he was born, or when he was turned into a vampire, or even (as Cordelia suggested) when he was given his soul. Far too complicated. So we're just going to put 'Angel'. And we're going to plant a red rose next to the white one too.

It's been a stressful few days. I'm glad it's the summer holidays and I can get some rest now. Giles is going later today, back to his house in the hills, but Mum says next time she goes to visit him (now I know that's where she went every now and again) I can come. I'm glad. I like Giles, and he says he's going to teach me things about demons and such, so even if I can't do the spells I can help Mum and Tara. I never realised how much they kept from me. I'd be mad if I didn't know it was just because they were worried about the things haunting the night. 

Anyway, I have to finish this and print it out and give it to Giles so he can send it to whoever he needs to send it too. So the missing people aren't so missing any more, and a little gap's filled. I can give a name to the photo on the living room wall. Buffy Summers, the girl who affected so many people, and whose influence lives on.

My mum's a witch, and she helped someone to return to the girl he loved. And I love her for it.

Elizabeth Rosenberg, Sunnydale, CA, 16th August 2020.


End file.
